Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(112)
She paused a moment, but he said nothing.
“The international police have shut down your island, Wilkey, and have all the records your people so meticulously kept. When your insane Realignment tortures didn’t work on homosexuals, you chemically castrated the men, sterilized the women.”
“Such a perverted lifestyle choice cannot be allowed to disrupt the natural order of the greater good.”
“If individuals of different races living or imprisoned on said island managed to slip through the cracks to form a relationship, the punishment was shock treatments followed by thirty days’ solitary confinement. If said relationship resulted in pregnancy, the pregnancy was terminated and both parties sterilized.”
“Of course, of course.” He nodded as if they were in perfect agreement. “The mixing of races dilutes the power and light of the whole. To each their own kind, my dear. This preserves cultures, it enhances the strengths and diminishes the weaknesses in each race. It brings peace and true freedom.”
“The above charges violate international laws.”
“The laws of our order answer to a higher power. Utopia Island is a sovereign nation—”
“In violation of a crapload of international laws. But we’ll just leave that to those authorities and focus in on the multiple lifetimes you’ll be doing courtesy of New York.”
“You and they have no authority over me and mine.”
Peabody rolled her eyes. “Which is why you’re sitting here in that fashionable suit.”
“Where my corporeal form resides means nothing. My spirit remains free.”
“Your spirit’s never going to know freedom again,” Eve said. “Your wife remains in a coma after her latest attempt to self-terminate. Her chances are fifty-fifty.”
“Sadly, my wife suffers from typical female weaknesses and complaints, so her mind and spirit are in constant struggle. The universe decides in these tragic matters, not I.”
“But you decided, though she was physically and emotionally incapable of carrying more children, to continue to impregnate her so that she suffered multiple miscarriages.”
“A woman’s purpose in life, indeed her greatest joy, is creating life, then nurturing that pure spirit. A husband is duty bound to fulfill his wife’s purpose and bring her joy.”
“Right.” Eve flipped through her file. “So her physical and emotional health, her willingness to accept your decree of her ‘purpose’ doesn’t apply. So when your wife underwent a hysterectomy to save her own life, you then impregnated, by forced insemination, a nineteen-year-old female—recorded as Patricia Hemstead.”
Eve looked back at him. “Apparently your so-called marital duty doesn’t just apply to your wife.”
“The young girl trod on a crooked path. We helped her find the way, and gave her purpose.”
“By forcing her to become an incubator,” Eve snapped back. “To fulfill your purpose. Hemstead was then kept against her will, often in restraints, forced to complete the pregnancy, after which you took the child from her. You transferred Hemstead to your farm system, just getting off the ground then—in Kansas. In the case of the male child you named Aaron, your wife was given the child to raise.”
“We saved the vessel from a life of chaos and poor choices, and gave her the greatest gift a woman knows.”
“And Patricia Hemstead, again according to your own records, died eighteen years ago when she slit her own wrists with a piece of broken glass.”
He lifted his hands, briefly bowed his head. “We mourn her terrible choice.”
“I bet. Your youngest son has spent most of his life tending to the woman he believed was his mother, and much of that in restriction on the island.”
“A child is subject to his parents’ will, and has no greater purpose but to honor them.”
She saw the little cracks forming. His smile, not so calm now. His eyes not so dreamy. A man used to deference, even reverence, didn’t care for questioning and disgust—and she made sure hers showed—especially by women.
“And keeping him on the island’s handy, as it would be embarrassing for the head of Natural Order to have a gay son.”
For the first time Wilkey’s face tightened. “My son has not chosen to be a homosexual.”
“No, he hasn’t, because choice has nothing to do with it. But let’s move on to your other kids. Your oldest … What’s his name again?” Eve made a show of looking through her files.
“That’s Samuel,” Peabody told her. “The embezzler.”
“Right, right, the one who likes to dip into the membership fund to finance his lifestyle.”
Wilkey flicked a hand. “That’s nonsense.”
“You must’ve taught him something.” Peabody smiled broadly. “Because he kept really good records, in both sets of books.”
“I was getting him mixed up with the other one, the one who likes to look at little girls.”
“That’s Joseph,” Peabody said helpfully. “He’s got an extensive collection of child porn—a lot of little girls right from your membership rolls. Most of them with paternal permission. But we give him some credit, as for sex he hits up adults. Licensed companions.”
“These are terrible lies. The weakness of women, by nature, often resorts to lies, to cunning.”